Paris-Brest-Paris

France

1987

Two years after completing the 714-mile ultramarathon sleep-eat-cycle qualifying race for the race Across America in Tucson, Arizona, I was on a mission to travel across the world for the 1987 Paris-Brest-Paris. This was originally a 1200 kilometer (750-mile long distance cycling event dating back to 1891. The last time it was run as a race was 1951. In 1931, amateur cyclists were separated from professionals. PBP is a grueling test of endurance and cycling ability. Beginning on the southwestern side of the French capital, PBP travels west to the port city of Brest on the Atlantic Ocean and returns (mostly along the same route. A 90-hour time limit ensures that only the hardiest randonneurs and randonneuses earn the prestigious PBP finisher’s medal and have their name entered into the event’s Great Book along with every other finisher going back to the very first PBP.

In order to qualify for PBP, I had to complete four separate brevets (also called randonnees), here in the United States – 200 km, 300 km, 400 km, and 600 km. As in all brevet events, there is emphasis on self-sufficiency. Riders buy supplies anywhere along the course, but support by motorized vehicles is prohibited except at checkpoints. There is a 90-hour limit and the clock runs continuously. Many riders sleep as little as possible, sometimes catching a few minutes beside the road before continuing.

Where once PBP was contested by a few professionals as a demonstration of the bicycle’s potential, today the focus is on the ordinary rider. PBP continues to attract competitive riders. Despite insistence that it isn’t a race, PBP offers trophies and prestige to the first finishers.

At PBP, there are three groups of riders –

• The vedettes (“stars”) are elite riders and have a time limit of 80 hours, although some will complete the ride considerably faster. The vedettes are first to depart on Sunday afternoon.
• The touristes are the largest group and have a time limit of 90 hours, departing in waves on Sunday evening.
• The randonneurs are a smaller group and have a time limit of 84 hours (representing the minimum average speed of 14.3km/h). This group departs early on Monday morning.

I was scheduled to be in the touristes group with a 90-hour time limit, but as fate would have it, there was an organizational mistake and I was thrust into the “star” group, many of whom had just returned from participating in the the Tour de France two months earlier! This was only the beginning…

This book is dedicated to David Elliot. Four brevets had to be completed to qualify for the 750-mile Paris-Brest Paris. This is a diary from Suan Lebel, former Canine Officer for the Goffstown, New Hampshire Police Department. Sue and I became acquainted through the NH Police Explorers, a program that I oversaw as Senior Exploring Executive for the Daniel Webster Council, Boy Scouts of America. I asked Sue to be my travel companion and support crew for one of the qualifying Brevets in New York, and then invited her to journey with me to France for the same. She also spoke French which was a savior for us when we got to France.

This is our story in her words and through her eyes.

Thursday, August 6

A warm day, cool night. The images of you riding ahead of me. The fall moon’s light reflects on your legs with each motion. Your rhythm is flawless and as I listen to classical music, I feel a sense of warmth and solitude. The beauty of that night will stay in my thoughts forever.

Monday, August 10

A week before the trip begins…I feel so anxious about going to France. Where are we going? What lies ahead? Lest not forget Syracuse (NY) or the Kancamagus (Highway, 34.5 mile stretch across Route 112 National Scenic Byway in northern NH from Conway to Lincoln and known as some of the best fall foliage viewing in the USA). Rise free from care before dawn and seek adventures.

Tuesday, August 18, 1987

We arrived in Boston, Monday, August 17th to drop off Fritz (Sue’s canine police dog). Then we went to seeGreg Philibotte and his Mom Jeanine at Children’s Hospital. We both felt the same way when we left.We couldn’t talk. I was so taken by him, his courage, his positive attitude and this was intensified by his obvious need to learn, ask questions about people he didn’t know, had just met, about cycling. I had the hardest time holding those tears back. Our trip to New York went fairly well. Thank God for air conditioning. It was so refreshing to step into Rich and Paula McIlveen (Rich and Dave grew up together in North Hampton, NH, and attended elementary school and high school) backyard even though it was so humid out. You won the dinner bet at 1920 hours – arrival time. Mac was great! You have a good taste in friends. Tuesday morning you got your bike box, $10., and a lot of tension was released. You looked much more relaxed. Then we met with our friendly neighborhood “Blow me!” postman in Westfield.

We arrived at Peter Dascoulios at 1500 hours after taking the $7 sightseeing tour  over the Verrazano Bridge twice. I could only think of what the Indians and first settlers thought of that great river, the Hudson, so wide and strong. I felt so much at home at Pete’s.  I’ve always envisioned my house to have that homey atmosphere. With art all over and a great kitchen to cook and be creative in. Fort Wadsworth (military installation on Staten Island) was so serene compared to the rest of New York. We arrived at John F. Kennedy International Airport at 1845 hours. We got into a line where the Elliot charm worked out nicely. We came close to a $0 parking ticket and really had to talk some fast tracks around the airport cop. We boarded and were off at 2100 hours. We had our breaks…

You know…I was just starting to get into reading Hermann Hesse’ “Gertrude” – a wonderful story about a man loving a woman and her not loving him. He’s a musician and in the Hess writings, he fills all the voids you have about philosophies, compassion, his words, make you feel the story.The emotions No other author has ever touched me like this. Serenity was broken by an unruly family. Obnoxious and bent on ruining an otherwise wonderful flight. We landed at 10 AM, and again had to pay back our breaks as you put it. We waited for transport to FIAPAD (cross between a hotel and a youth hostel). It was exciting though seeing all the boxes, bikes and people on the sidewalk.

Wednesday, August 19

Arrive 1315 at FIAPAD. We were exhausted. A couple of beers (21 Francs) at a rate of 5.85 to $1; and on to the elevator we go to get our keys. Fifteen minutes. Mrty Wolf, you and I stuck in a toilet sized room with baggage. Silliness came upon us and should. As in any bad situation, you have to reach down for a sense of humor and make the best of it.1830 hours. You were sleeping. You called my name. You had been dreaming. A moment later you got up and thought I was sleeping at the desk. I was writing today’s notes in this book, but I didn’t want you to know that. I’ll wake you now and we will go to dinner.

We met Kay and Dwight Callaway of Charlotte, North Carolina, and went to Arc de Triomphe (one of the most famous monuments in France standing at the western end of Champs-Élysées at the centre of Place Charles de Gaulle, formerly named Place de l’Étoile—the étoile or “star” of the juncture formed by its twelve radiating avenues).We stepped onto the street and looked at this enormous monument. The sun was setting behind it and it reminded me of the Monolith in 2001 (On the eve of 2001, a steel monolith was discovered on “a windswept hilltop” in Seattle’s Warren Magnuson Park, according to the Los Angeles Times. The monolith measured 1 foot by 4 feet by 9 feet — a tribute to the first three prime numbers squared and an understanding of mathematics, as described in Clarke’s book.)

We saw the eternal flame burning with fresh flowers. The ladies dressed up so much. A girl in green posing on tip toes for a photographer. The traffic rushing round the circle almost collided; a police car, as all other cars in Paris, was very small. We walked Champs-Élysées (The name is French for the Elysian Fields, the place for dead heroes in Greek mythology. It is commonly regarded as one of the the most beautiful and famous avenues in the world located on Broad avenue in Paris, which stretches 1.17 miles (1.88 km) from the Arc de Triomphe to the Place de la Concorde). Such a wide boulevard with trees and hundreds of shops. At Four Season Hotel George V (an art-deco landmark built in 1928, Four Seasons Hotel George V is nestled in the Golden Triangle of Paris, just off the historic Champs-Elysees), we took the meteor to Trocadero (The Trocadéro site of the Palais de Chaillot, is an area of Paris, France, in the 16th arrondissement, across the Seine from the Eiffel Tower). We exited by a tall building and walked to an opening. We turned the corner and there in front of us stood a magnificent sight. PARIS! We stood in awe at the Eiffel Tower (constructed in 1889 and is the tallest structure in Paris- 324 meters (1,063 ft) tall. It is  a wrought-iron lattice tower on the Champ de Mars. It is named after the engineer Gustave Eiffel, whose company designed and built the tower.

It took my breath away. It was so festive. The pounding of African drums beating in rhythm. Black men seated beside their wares spread out on blankets. Large cylinder balloons thumping on the pavement. ; while the merchants speaking in a dialect part French With an African accent, asking us to buy from them. The night was warm and the sky was clear. The sun had just set and it was twilight. Fountains of water lay before the Tower as if in a religious praise to it. It was the drums that made my heart pound. The Eiffel Tower stood ahead. It called to us and we went. People roller skating, skateboards, lounging on the grass. 42 Francs each to go to the top. We stepped onto the elevator and started the ascent. We watched the passing structure, amazed at its strength and wondered how it was built. We reached the top. Paris lay below us. Stretched in splendid color. All lit up – the city of lights.” The Palais de Chaillot we stood watching only moments before (built for the 1937 International Exhibition of “Arts and Techniques Applied to Modern Life”, it consists of two neoclassical style pavilions, separated by an esplanade, the Parvis des Droits de l’Homme. It offers one of the most memorable views of the Trocadero gardens and the Eiffel Tower). The Arc de Triomphe. Bateau (light flat bottomed river boats) on the Seine River (483 mile long river that flows through Paris and into the English Channel). From the summit, the breeze was warm and refreshing. At the base, Dave  had a creme glacé chocolat for 15 Francs. We were realizing just how spoiled we are to be Americans. How much ice cream we would have gotten for that price in Raymond (NH). We headed for home. The black merchant who sold you the balloon for 10F, did not want his photo taken. We turned in at midnight. We reached to each other for comfort in the night. It has been a long day. The night was intense. We spent $83.14 in American bills since Monday morning. And today spent 200 francs ($35). We are sharing our room with Gilbert Anderson and Joanne Cavallo of North Carolina. A tandem team.

Thursday, August 20

We woke at 0730 hours and found that the French do not eat the breakfast that we are accustomed to. Cold hard boiled eggs, bread, orange, and warm milk. We had to dish out 14 francs.

Along with Dwight and Kay, we went to Châtelet–Les Halles (a major train hub in Paris and one of the largest underground stations in the world. Opened in 1977, it is the central transit hub for the Paris metropolitan area, connecting three of five RER commuter-rail lines and five of sixteen Métro lines.The hub hosts 750,000 travelers per weekday (493,000 for the RER alone) and platforms separated by up to 800 meters (0.5 mi). It is named after the nearby Place du Châtelet public square and the Forum des Halles, a shopping mall) This was the center of the city. Looming above us was a tower. Another monument with small spires – Tower St. Jacques (stands alone in the middle of a little garden of the same name. A tower in the flamboyant Gothic style, built between 1509 and 1523, the Tour Saint-Jacques is the only remaining vestige of the Eglise Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie destroyed in 1797. The sculpted symbols of the four evangelists (the lion, bull, eagle and man), appear on the corners. These statues were restored during the last century, along with the gargoyles and the 18 statues of saints that decorate the walls of the tower.) The police station was next door. A white helmeted motorcycle cop on a moped. A little card for a cruiser. We crossed the Notre Dame Bridge and stood looking at the Seine River. Buildings stretched along its banks. The architecture was beautiful. Everything so ornate. We bought a book at a newsstand called “A Complete Guide for Visiting Paris.” The Notre Dame Cathedral. When I studied architecture at UNH (University of New Hampshire), most of the material centered around Cathedrals as they were built in a time when the people of the city got together with finances, labor, and creativity in designing a structure different from any other. I remember the main goal of Notre Dame was to build two spires on each side – portals with the facade in the center. However, it was never completed and today the Notre Dame stands with its 2 portals unfinished and never will be. The design work on the building is magnificent. The Kings, Adam and Eve, angels, and the facade. The arch is like no other as it bears man and animal. The gargoyles. Who imagined these creatures?

The interior was dark. You lit a candle for a prayer (5F). The ceiling was high. Stained glass window and large chandelier hanging from the ceiling. We saw the Pieta (The most famous statue in the choir, the Descent from the Cross, or Pietà, is recognized worldwide. Positioned in the center directly behind the high altar, this statue was crafted by Nicolas Coustou, a French sculptor, in the late 1600s to early 1700s). All these things I studied in Art Class. I was here. I was disappointed I couldn’t see the thorns of Christ. (On 15 April 2019, just before 18:20 CEST, a fire broke out beneath the roof of Notre-Dame de Paris cathedral in Paris. By the time the structure fire was extinguished the building’s spire had collapsed, most of its roof had been destroyed and its upper walls were severely damaged.)

We had lunch at a cafe (160 francs) and had awful milk. Again we were overwhelmed by the difference in eating habits. We walked to the Louvre Museum (the world’s most-visited museum, and a historic landmark in Paris. It is the home of some of the best-known works of art, including the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo) passing the Palais de Justice (The Palais de Justice, is a judicial center and courthouse in Paris, located on the Île de la Cité. It contains the Court of Appeal of Paris, the busiest appellate court in France, and France’s highest court for ordinary cases, the Court of Cassation). And Sainte-Chapelle (a royal chapel in the Gothic style, within the medieval Palais de la Cité, the residence of the Kings of France until the 14th century, on the Île de la Cité in the River Seine in Paris, France. Construction began sometime after 1238 and the chapel was consecrated on 26 April 1248) and Conciergerie (a former courthouse and prison in Paris located on the west of the Île de la Cité, below the Palais de Justice. It was originally part of the former royal palace, the Palais de la Cité, which also included the Sainte-Chapelle. Two large medieval halls remain from the royal palace). We crossed The Pont Saint-Louis (a bridge across the River Seine in the 4th arrondissement of Paris. It links the Île de la Cité with the Île Saint-Louis). The winding road along the Seine River was lined with green boxes “bouquinistes” – booksellers with old maps and books being sold. We came to the Louvre (20F each). The Egyptian Art was detailed and I wondered what it would have been like to live then as an artist. The art was very basic – it showed life. What amazed us all was the ornate ceilings. We saw the Mona Lisa, La Tête de Saint Jean Baptiste, Nouveau Cannes – all by Leonardo da Vinci, my favorite artist. So imaginative. Most people never understood him. We purchased two books and you pointed out Charles leBel on the Royalty tree poster.

After leaving the Louvre, we traveled to Rue Brunel (street in Paris) in search of Monsieur C. Beauvy who owned a bike shop in 1973. We couldn’t find him. We did meet Gest of Alexander, 1 20ish year old with spiky blondish hair and an earring in his left ear. He knew English and gave posters of bikes from the Peugeot-Velo Shoppe on Grand Armee (Armand Peugeot had its first Peugeot Cycles bicycles made in 1882, and opened a first shop in the Grand Army Avenue in Paris in 1889!) where he worked. Exhausted at this point, we returned to FIAPAD and ate at 1830. We then took the Metro to Chatelet-Les Halles (a major train hub in Paris and one of the largest underground stations in the world. Opened in 1977, it is the central transit hub for the Paris metropolitan area, connecting three of five RER commuter-rail lines and five of sixteen Métro lines.The hub hosts 750,000 travelers per weekday (493,000 for the RER alone) and platforms separated by up to 800 meters (0.5 mi). It is named after the nearby Place du Châtelet public square and the Forum des Halles, a shopping mall) and then walked to St. Denis (Saint-Denis is a commune in the northern suburbs of Paris. It is located 9.4 km from the center of Paris. Saint-Denis, which had a population of 112,091 as of 2018, is a subprefecture of the department of Seine-Saint-Denis, being the seat of the arrondissement of Saint-Denis). The street was packed with locals and tourists. People of every color, size, shape, nationality. We found a bar with “Live Show” in red neon lights. Three fat prostitutes were standing out front. You and Dwight stood under the flashing sign and I was able to take you and the three women. Well, that blonde fat one came bouncing over swearing to me in French and told me it was illegal to take photos of prostitutes. We made off not to understand French and walked off. She was still yelling she would call the cops, still swearing. We went into a couple of Peep Show places and they had rather exotic videos to see. 50F to rent and about 150-175 F to buy. Most of the other items were geared to homosexuals, leather everythings. We found salvation for our “palate” and went to Burger King. The shakes were refreshing but not thick like ones at home. Neither Dwight nor you could get over the women and how they dressed so seductively. Barely anything covering their breasts. We saw a drugbuy go down on the street corner. There must have been a lot of that going on as there were policemen everywhere. I saw some with machine guns – very impressive. Their guns were all attached to a coil on their belts and the handcuffs were square.

Before getting back on the Metro, we stopped at a square in Les Halles and listened to a man playing the accordion, playing French tunes. This was Paris. The flowers, the night with stars, the buildings – old with wooden shutters and flower boxes on the sills. The cafes, people laughing. We spent 912 Francs – $152. We turned in at midnight, white sheets moving with a breeze in the night -quietly, passionately.

Friday, August 21

Woke 0745. At breakfast, you and Dwight went cycling 50 miles to learn the route. Kay and I went to the bike shops as rumors said you needed a bell. Grekof helped out again and we met at FIAPAD for lunch at 1330. We took several metro lines to get to Montmartre (a large hill in Paris’s 18th arrondissement. It is 130 m high and gives its name to the surrounding district, part of the Right Bank in the northern section of the city.

Montmartre is primarily known for its artistic history, the white-domed Basilica of the Sacré-Cœur on its summit, and as a nightclub district. The other church on the hill, Saint Pierre de Montmartre, built in 1147, was the church of the prestigious Montmartre Abbey.) We exited  and the street was filled with people. They weren’t tourists. They are the residents. We had seen a woman selling fruit inside the Metro tunnel and a woman not too old, 30’s, but appearing much older as she was stout, broad-faced, very little hair, sitting beside her harp eating a green apple.

The climb up to Sacre Coeur (The Sacred Heart Basilica of Montmartre, or Sacré-Coeur, is a Roman Catholic church and a famous landmark in Paris with a deep and complex history as it is not only a religious monument but also a political one. The site has been around since pagan times through the Middle Ages and French Revolution) started with the hills. We stopped at McDonald’s. There were stairs stretching to Sacre Coeur. Once at the top, there was a Latin band singing songs and you were right – it was intense. Inside, we went into the pews and prayed. You were quiet. It started out that way. Then I thought of the race. Dear God, you’ve got to take him and hold on to him – push him gracefully and gently along the routes. I thought of Greg (Philibotte, Boston Children’s Hospital) and how he must be thinking of you.

I started crying. The church was so quiet, so beautiful. We walked the stairs to the top of the dome. Small circular stairway, steps worn by years of travel on them. 10F each person and well worth it. Part way up the dome was a walkway going around the inside and you could look down inside the church.

We walked the outside walkway and all around us stretched out for miles was Paris. Buildings so close to each other. The Eiffel Tower standing in the haze. We went into the crypt but didn’t get far as we had to pay.

After leaving the Sacre Coeur, we walked the streets of Montmartre. We came to the village square where artists had their works for sale. Red umbrella and easels and beautiful colorful oil paintings. So many to see. The man on crutches, the dog with the long tongue,. We walked on a small street and three musicians were playing guitars. I then told you about the puzzle I had as a little girl of the Sacre Coeur with a Boulanger shop in the foreground (Boulanger Montmartre). Here it was! I must have done that puzzle a dozen times. I was living it.

The next street was also narrow and winding and all downhill. We passed a black French poodle by a cafe., the windmill, and several shops. Fish, and live eels all covered with flies. A plump woman, graying hair, plucking a bird to put out on the counter. Meat hanging – no refrigeration. People with bread under their arms. Two girls working a pastry shop and holding the bread up with a smile for a “photo.” Clicky. That was the street. We were on a long street with all the “sex shops” and the Moulin Rouge (Moulin Rouge is best known as the birthplace of the modern form of the can-can dance. Originally introduced as a seductive dance by the courtesans who operated from the site, the can-can dance revue evolved into a form of entertainment of its own and led to the introduction of cabarets across Europe.). We ate at an outdoor cafe and had some delicious lasagna. Then we paid 50F each for a live show. The best part was two older guys – twin brothers probably showing their physical abilities. Then we took in a couple of movies and got stared down by some nut in the Danish flick. We turned in at 0100 hours.

Saturday, August 22

0730, woke and went to a meeting of Randonneurs at 0830. Absolute confusion and disagreement between Konski and Bowman. First was the SAG (Support and Gear Crew) meeting and then the meeting for cyclists. Bowman told me that he couldn’t get your time changed and you weren’t leaving at 10 AM. We left at 11 AM and Metro to the Latin section to go to the LeVieux Campeur for stove fuel and ultra energy food. We found neither but did buy some prepared foods, like freeze dried eggs and ham meats. We also got a cooler. We had lunch just before at a pizza/Italian cafe and had thin, sliced pizza. It was raining at first but it cleared up by the time we left Le Vieux Campeur and we walked past several of the bars in the Latin Section, including an oriental store with bizarre items for sale. We crossed La Seine, exchanged more money for $350 for 2,01250 F. Metro to Arc de Triomphe looking for a rental car. At the BMX rental, I was told we could not get a car as they were all reserved already. We were all tired. We made our way to the HErtz on Rue Brunel at the circle. The game plan went over well. We informed the girl we had made reservations three weeks ago for two cars and she bought it. We got the two cars. A white and a red Opel. Dwight was so excited to get a red car that he jumped in the air screaming (sort of like a Toyota commercial). We drove Avenue de la Grande Armee around La Defense (a major business district located three kilometers west of the city limits of Paris) and to the FIAPAD. We drove to the stadium at 1730 hours. It was great. Hundreds of bike racks lined up in the parking lot. Flags lining the main entrance. Officials inside getting the paperwork prepared. A woman was so helpful telling us about the event and gave you a sticker. It was so exciting!

We then went to the Super Marche/Casino and bought 451,86F of groceries.

Peanut butter in a can

Grape jelly

2 loaves of bread

Dishwashing liquid

Toilet paper and paper towels

Cereal

Energy bars

Paper and tape

2 Coca-cola

2 Orange Juice

Chocolate milk

Chocolate mousse

2 croissants

2 eclairs

2 ravioli

Champagne

Macaroni

When we returned to FIAPAD, we had dinner and spent the night relaxing. It felt good. The room was dark. We were alone. We had a long talk about the race, about us, on views of life. You mentioned I had been a bit “testy” during the day. I’m sure I wasn’t full of joy and bouncy, but I was tired and all I had been dealing with up until now. It was hard because I spoke French and had to plan the tours, speak, get directions, deal with it all. Plus the stress of the race. I Knew you were under so much stress. We needed to talk. It felt good. I like to open up to you. You’re my friend.

Sunday, August 23

Woke at 11:30 AM. Lunch at the FIAPAD at 1230. Arrived at the Stade M – stadium in Rueil-Malmaison at 0115 hours. There were cyclists there already as this was a registration day for the 4 AM and 10 AM groups. I stood on a chair marking the maps that were displayed on a board. Yellow for cyclist group and blue for SAG. You and Dwight walked around. I signed up the car and we bought stickers(11em PBP, 40F). Cars were all over as well as cyclists coming through the gates. We drove the 1st leg of the race course to see how the arrows were set up. A monsieur was using wall paste to post the arrows on the walls. Short, plump – very French.

We drove the car route to N-12 as the Frenchman had directed us. This man was an ACP official. A father, undoubtedly Catholic, white hair, lived his life here, fought in WWII to save his country from German rule. I wish I could have spoken to him to find truth.

FIAPAD at 1530 to pack groceries, bags for the PBP. We wrote postcards (6 for you, 10 for me) At 2000 hours, we stood in line at Rue de Raisins Gymnasium, waiting to eat. The line was long. We looked over the bikes along the road. So many different types. I had never been exposed to such a diversity in makes. How little I know. How much I want to learn. Two and ½ hours later and having overheard French men talking of having just been in the Tour de France and going into PBP, we finally got to the tables. We met a young Briton. He related the latest news of a massacre by a gunman with an AK-47 (The Hungerford massacre was a spree shooting in Hungerford, England, United Kingdom, on 19 August 1987, when 27-year-old Michael Ryan shot dead sixteen people, including an unarmed police officer and his own mother, before shooting himself.) Dinner at 10: PM – people just took their time picking up their food. It was good but the wait was too long. Turned in at midnight.

Monday, August 24

Woke 0930. I took the Metro to La Defense to buy a stove with LaGaz Butane fuel. 3 rolls of Kodak Ektachrome, 400 ASA, 36 exposure film. We had chicken and rice for lunch at FIAPAD at noon. We had the same dish for three days in a row. Yum. Of course, you didn’t eat. You had no appetite. I don’t blame you.

At 13 hours, we went to the stadium. OYou had your bike checked. Two officials checked for your light bulbs and batteries. You got a PBP cap and bottle. You then went to register yourself. Problem! I was outside with your bike as I was told to stand out there.I didn’t expect any problems. You didn’t either. You returned saying you were having some problems inside. I had been telling several groups of people about your bike, especially the handles. You were upset. I didn’t know why at this point but I found out. My God, this was unbelievable. You were told by Steve Bauman you had to leave at 1600 hours. The officials told you that you were to leave at 10 AM. What a mixup. I had a hard time understanding the woman as she had laryngitis. You got a new number, from #2158 to #191. There was a sign up sheet for ‘changes’ and now it hit us. It was apparent that anyone could change their times at the last minute. Steve Bauman had lied to us. It hit.

You were going to start this PBP on a down note. To realize that Bauman had lied to you. You were so upset. I wanted to hold you. David, what could I say? Yet in spite of this, you stood strong. You ahd to start at 1600 hours. We went to the car and spoke to two Frenchmen who had been with the PBP four times. The woman suggested to SAG until Les Chevaux.

1600 hours – you were waiting at the end of the line on a small road. 200 cyclists. Rain falling. Townspeople with cameras. Cold, dark weather.Two motorcycle cops escorted you. “Des gendarmes” (a member of a body of soldiers especially in France serving as an armed police force for the maintenance of public order.) You left the road, turned left, passed me, yelled “heh” and I yelled “Bon chance, David, good luck!”

I followed a long line of SAG vehicles through town to Route N-12 West. We traveled very fast. At first I followed a blue Peugeot van but it kept falling behind the pack. I moved ahead and caught up to a large white van. 1630 (on tape) speed limit is 60K. We are doing 80K, then went up to 120K. Large boulevard – large trees on each side. Pont Marly en route to Versailles. I was following the van and we got lost at a traffic circle. After getting directions, we got on to a red paved roadway, winding through an area where the trees were green and hanging over like a canopy. It was obvious that this was a wealthy section of town. It was raining heavily. My thoughts were on you. I know how you feel about riding in the rain and it was just coming down. We got onto the “Voie Rapide”, a super highway (3 lanes) and hit the Paris rush hour traffic. Bumper to bumper and hardly moving at all. I was still behind the white van. There were no other SAG vehicles on the road. At 1730 hours, I saw the accident that had the road blocked off. I then drove through Pontchartrain on the way to Dreux. The buildings are stone, brick and red tile roofs. The countryside is cornfields, sunflowers, turned over fields, cow manure filling the air. I believe this was the area we saw flying in. I’m listening to Steve Miller playing “Living in the USA.”

The road to Belleme was very narrow – one car width wide. The countryside is a lot like home. Arrived at Belleme at 2015 hours. You came in with the second group. You came in fast. Ate some macaroni and cheese and left at 2230. You were there for about an hour. It was raining. I got lost by Montagne. A Frenchman, about 60 years old, quit the raceJust wanted to do the 100 miles.

2330 on Route N-12 West. There are no gas stations open – low on fuel. At midnight I left the Total Gas Station, full tank in Alencon (off my route). People were very friendly. The back roads to the course were confusing. The streets weren’t marked at all. I asked a (18)young intoxicated guy on a bicycle who set me straight.

Tuesday, August 25

I arrived at Villaines-la-Juhel, 1235 AM. You showed up at 0200 hours and left at 0315 hours. You were depressed. Your spirits were down. I got you going. What could I say to you? You ate more macaroni and cheese. And some soup. Changed clothes at 0340. I saw a castle by Mayenne enroute to Fougeres. Around a castle, three stories on a river, surrounded by a closely knit group of buildings.

I was making good time listening to Arabic music, French accordion, and country music. After leaving Ernee at 0400, I passed a boulevard lined with large trees – equally spread apart. I arrived at Fougeres at 0420, behind nine cyclists coming into town. I made you some ravioli. You came in at 0730 and again you deliberated on whether to go on or not. Your body was in pain. You were soaked. You had no one to ride with. You left at 0830. You had told me you almost crashed into a fence during the night. I had forgotten to fill your water bottles but a man gave you some water. Thank God. I felt awful about having forgotten that. All I had on my mind was you.

0900 – I started to take photos as the villages were now visible in daylight. It was still raining. I met a couple from California. The man had dropped out as he was sick, but they were continuing on the course. I arrived at Tinteniac at 10:40 AM. You arrived at 11 AM. You had made very good time. You ate some more ravioli and some “poutage” soup I bought at the cafeteria. You changed clothes. The weather changed from sunny to dreadful showers three times in an hour. I felt your forehead and you were hot. You had a fever. You left at noon.

The road to Loudeac was countryside. A lot of farms, lots of cows. You were on the better roads and my route was on the secondary roads. This however took me through some gorgeous villages. I’d be driving along the small, winding, hilly road and would see the next village on a hilltop. The staple of the church was the first sight.

Every town was set with a church as the center with a few buildings and a cafe. Maybe because people were at work in fields or away on vacation, but everything was closed. And there were no stores. It was a very poor living. No cars. Some bicycles. I imagined these people live all their lives in their village. What was it like during the wars? I didn’t see anyone walking, no dogs either.

I arrived at Loudeac at 1415 hours, bathed, ate and met with Kay Calloway. She was waiting for Dwight. She had to spend the night in Tinteniac as she was out of gas. You arrived at 1615 hours. The sun was out. It was a beautiful afternoon. I made some fresh macaroni and cheese. You ate a little bit. I gave you a rubdown on the lawn. I washed you down. You slept on a mattress for an hour. I slept about a half hour. I spoke to a Frenchmanwho told me how some men were in the Tour de France and were now in this PBP. I had seen Rick Andrews who dropped out. And you already know about Linda and Ed dropping out in Tinteniac. You said you’d continue on to Carhaix. You really didn’t want to. You were very sick. You still had a fever, diarrhea, you felt like throwing up. Marvin Christy had missed the checkpoint by an hour (he left at 10 AM start and made it to Loudeac at 1510. You were making very good time in spite of all the ailments. 1735 hours. Dwight just passed through. You left at 1830 hours. 116 francs for 22.9 liters of gas at 1840 on my departure. On the road to Carhaix, I saw so many cars with bikes heading back.

Pontivy was a city in which resembled Manchester (NH). Along main street (not so wide) with a lot of stores (none open of course). Banners crossing the roa. 46 francs worth of groceries were purchased, like mayonnaise! You had wanted to eat tuna dry so we hadn’t brought any before, but you couldn’t eat it like that. I don’t blame you. Yeck! I also bought milk! Left at 1915. I ate a Mars bar to stay awake. My energy level was way down. I nearly drove off the road three times. My eyes wouldn’t stay open. I could sleep in Carhaix. The road is all uphill. It has been ascending  since Pontivy. I’m at a higher altitude, there are pine trees here. I arrived at Carhaix at 2100 hours. Stood in line for ½ hour for food for you. Chicken, ham, and macaroni. Hot! It is cold, windy, miserable weather. The mood is festive as townspeople are here to watch people coming in. You came in at 2200.

You had signed in and learned of the cutoff time. I was sleeping and you woke me. I was bundled up in the brown FIAPAD blanket wearing an extra pair of socks. It was very cold outside. The wind was still blowing strong and it was raining on and off. I told you I’d heat up you food. You sat in the car and told me you were through. You asked about the rooms and that you wanted to call your Dad. I pulled out the map of France and showed you how much you had accomplished in 30 hours.. Yet, you pointed out to me that because of the 4 PM start time, you had to be done in a certain time interval and 30 hours was too long. You still had to go to Brest, be back in Carhaix before 10 AM, Laudeac before 1540 and done the PBP in 65 hours. You knew you didn’t have the time. It was terrible weather. You still had a fever. Your right knee was hurting very much. Your back was aching. And your left eye burst a blood vessel. It has an accumulation of blood in the inner corner. Your eyelids were puffy and you had dark circles under your eyes. You had heartburn, you felt like throwing up. All this and you hadn’t looked at your toe yet.You had no feeling in them. Your spirits were low. A lot of people dropped out. You were so sick and no time to do your route in. Steve Bauman had lied to you and this was the end result. Your main concern was your sponsors, how would you tell them. There were no Crooms at Carhaix. We drove the bike route, passing several cyclists in the rain, in the night. Red lights and reflectors. It reminded me of Syracuse, the only place I had been exposed to that sight before. A sweet sound of music. The red lights gently swayed side to side. Such a quiet mood. You were solemn. How I wanted so much to console you. I tried. I wanted to nestle your head against my breasts. I wanted your troubles so you would be free of them. If there were a way to transfer your pain to me – I would take it all.

We stayed at a hotel in Loudeac for the night (245 francs, Visa). A small bed in a small room. You let your body relax in a hot tub. You were aching all over. We looked at your toe. It was twice the size of the other big toe, and the growth was bleeding, pussy (after returning to the USA, the growth was a tumor that needed to be removed caused by dropping a 100 pound box on the toe one month before departing for France). You had fluid in your right knee. It, too, was swollen. We slept; you tried to.

Wednesday, August 26

Woke 0900. Traveled back to FIAPAD. Enroute we followed the cyclists. I was glad to see your route. The hills were unbelievable! We got some corn and realized it was for cows – all white and small. We passed towns, large rolls of hay, cows, cornfields, and hills, hills, hills. Pastries and ham and cheese sandwich in Tinteniac for 50 francs. Fougeres – we visited a castle – 20 francs. You said it was hard to go visiting while cyclists were still on the route. I knew how you felt, but I was here for moral support. If I didn’t try to keep your mind off the event, you would eventually go into deep depression. This was the beginning. I expected you to get more upset as time went on. We arrived and it was pouring, then the sun came out. The castle was simple. You started to relax.

We got to Belleme and changed route. We had a beer at Montagne in a little bar. Watched people. The rest of the road was highway. You gave me a driving lesson. After unpacking at FIAPAD, we rested and went to Champs-Elysees to Burger King. It was good.

Thursday, August 27

We woke at 11:30 AM and left in two cars to go to lunch at an American Restaurant on Rue Saint-Denis (Rue Saint-Denis is one of the oldest streets in Paris. Its route was first laid out in the 1st century by the Romans, and then extended to the north in the Middle Ages. From the Middle Ages to the present day, the street has been notorious as a place of prostitution). We lost Dwight and Kay at the circle at Arc de Triomphe. Along with Lon Haldemann (an American ultramarathon cyclist. Nicknamed “Marathon Lon”, He was the catalyst for ultra distance bicycle racing. His first achievement was in 1979 when he won the Wisconsin End to End Record covering 407 miles in 23 hours 7 minutes. In the 1982 Great American Bike Race, later renamed the Race Across America, he completely changed the parameters, cycling for 9 days and 20 hours with three other cycling pioneers John Howard, John Marino and Michael Shermer. Lon Haldeman became the first person to ride a bicycle across the United States in less than 10 days), we had lunch at the Front Page Restaurant. On Rue Saint-Denis. Lon had two lunches. Our barbequed spare ribs, baked potato, ice cream sundae and beer cost us 230 francs. While enroute to FIAPAD, Lous saw Pete Pensyres on the sidewalk. (Pete Penseyres was the winner of the bicycle Race Across America, or RAAM, in 1984 and 1986,setting a world record of 3107 miles (5000 km) in 8 days, 9 hours, and 47 minutes. His average speed of 15.40 miles per hour (24.8 km/h) was the record for 27 years, finally being broken by Christoph Strasser in 2013, who averaged 15.58 miles per hour. Penseyres trained for years by cycling 65 miles to work each day.) Typical of a Frenchman, you drove onto it (sidewalk). They were 20 miles from the finish and needed a new hydraulic brake system. Lou helped them out at Lejeune Cycles. I didn’t have my camera. I wish I had. We met Hubert the boxer after he relieved himself on the bike bag.

Later that night we went to the outskirts of the Latin section and ate at a pizza place – 110 francs. Then listened to some good jazz music. Two beers and two wines cost us 250 francs. The best part of the night was meeting Alain Mas (famous French art painter). We both spotted a beautiful painting by him that we liked. I wanted it and so did you. You didn’t seem to want to buy it, so you told me to go ahead if I wanted to. I paid 400 francs for it and got him to sign his name on a card for me (your idea!). I should have gotten the other one signed too. Maybe we’ll go back.

Friday, August 28

Woke at 10:30 AM. Exchanged money at bank. We traveled by car to Versailles taking the scenic route through Mont Parly and through the city of versailles. We had lunch at “At Home” Restaurant – 110 francs. We visited the Palace at Chateau de Versaille (The Palace From the seat of power to a museum of the history of France. The Palace of Versailles has been listed as a World Heritage Site for 40 years and is one of the greatest achievements in French 17th century art. … In 1789, the French Revolution forced Louis XVI to leave Versailles for Paris). A cobblestone courtyard led us to to expansive palace in the foreground. Gilded bronze and gold all over the place. Large garden and pools of water on the grounds. Statues, monuments all over. What a sight! We went to the Trianon which housed marie Antonoitte’s bedroom and Hall ofMirrors. What a dynasty. This was where the great Louis XIV lived. You could imagine what it must have been like living there. Walking round in long gowns, having parties and playing lawn polo. Reading; writing; music – a wonderful inspiring place to paint. I couldn’t see the painting of Charles LeBel. I was disappointed. We stopped at a few shops to buy and to look. 1530 hours.

We took the highway back to Paris. I made tuna fish sandwiches in our room for lunch, with coke. We then went to La Defense by car. LeQuatre Temps took us to the mall (The Westfield Les 4 Temps is the main shopping center in the business district of La Défense, in the western suburbs of Paris, on the territory of the commune of Puteaux in the Hauts-de-Seine. In 2019, Les Quatre Temps is the most visited shopping center in France with 42 million visitors). What a complex. It was store after store. I found some French Style shirts at 50 francs each. While trying one on, two black guys tried to peek in behind the curtains. I came out and you were sitting there waiting for me. I was glad to see you. You said you were going to “belt them.” That made me feel good. I felt secure. Thank you.

I bought a couple of maps of France from an antique shop and talked the guy down from 75F to 65F. One is for Lillian. We checked out a two-story grocery store – “Auchan”. It was packed with people.

From 2000-2300, we ate dinner at “Maison L’Alsace” on Rue Champs Elysees. It had an outdoor cafe with red canopies. While waiting for our table, we saw so many different people walk past us. Our table was near the front. We could see the street well and there were no windows – glass or screens. Our waiter, French of course, had jet black hair, a large nose and large ears. I ordered in French for us. You had the taste of the wine. Petit pain. For “petit entrees”, you had mussels in shells. I had escargots – in butter. We watched a pyramid of foods served at another table. For dinner, you took Chateau briand and I had Le Veux. Exquisitely served. We had the French version of ice cream (glaces) for desserts – 50 francs. This was for you. You had bought me flowers. Two beautiful roses. One pink, one red. I will keep the dried petals forever.

Saturday (Samedi), August 29

Woke at 0730 hours. Along with Dwight, Kay, and Carol, we had decided to find a place to rest for the day. I found a large park in St. Denis and was looking forward to just relaxing for a change. We arrived at a Basilica. You and I entered, paying the 21 francs each. As we toured the tombs, you spotted it. Charles LeBel and Phillippe LeBel. They were here. We saw Phillippe first. I touched his foot. I closed my eyes and searched my soul. The first LeBel. He took reign as King of France at 17 years old you told me. I also saw King Charles and his wife but could not touch them. David, what do you supposed took us there? Why? Of all the places to visit, the most famous tourist attractions, we instead come across a church very few tourists see. “I touch my soul and my soul touches me.” Thoughts of life, death, youth, memory, do they sleep? Have they gone on..Phillippe and Charles are reincarcerated….

“The south wind roars at night,

curlews hasten in their flight,

The air is damp and warm.

Desire to sleep has vanished now,

Spring has arrived in the night,

in the wake of the storm.

I, too, no longer sleep,

My heart feels young and strong.

Memory takes me by the hand to peep

Again at days of joy and song,

But frightened at so bold a deed.

It does not linger long.

Be still, my heart, away with pain!

Though passion stirs again

In blood that now flows slowly

And leads to paths once known.

These paths you dread in vain

For youth has flown.”

Hermann Hesse, German/Swiss Poet

How many other LeBel’s have acknowledged them? Could I be the first? Why did we come here? I stopped my life for a moment while touching Phillippe’s soul and thought “Be Here Now.” I will never be here again at this moment in my life.

Thank you for taking me to FRANCE.

We left the Basilica and drove to the Parc Departmenal. Everyone was hungry. No one wanted to walk. Though all I heard was how much everyone wanted to relax by a lake, no one but me wanted to go in to relax. So instead we went to St. Denis business district. Shops were everywhere. People of all races, nationalities. You told me people of 50 races lived here in harmony. Carts filled with fruits, vegetables, flowers lined the streets. It was sunny, hot, beautiful day. We ate at a small pizza place and watched countries pass by us. Children, dogs, strange clothing. Bustling! At 1300, the stores closed. We managed to buy a few things. You pointed out a white jacket with PARIS on it and I bought it for 100 francs. We returned to FIAPAD at 1300 hours. Just you and I again, we return our beloved Opel to Hertz. It served us well. We Metroed to La Bateaux Mouche (open excursion boats that provide visitors to Paris, France, with a view of the city from along the river Seine). I saw a sign which I thought meant to cross the bridge. We did and ended up walking a mile. We got onto the Bateaux Mouche for 20 francs each. The tour on the Seine River was beautiful. I took so many photos. Some of the naked women on the beach (for you). It was an interesting site. I didn’t relax much, as I wanted to take photos of the grand buildings. I think you were probably upset with me but all the photos I take, I take for me and for you. So you can have a memory. So maybe 1 photo in a 100 will be great enough to blow up and frame. To be art. Photography is a challenge. Light, color, depth of field, speed, subject matter. This is the art of photography. I’m not very good at it, though I learn from my mistakes.

Finally at 1800 hours, we reached the Eiffel Tower to relax. The sun was shining. The Chatelot was packed with peopleThe African drums beat strongly. Children played. Painters were set up on the stairs. The fountains were refreshing just to look at. As we lay on the lawn, I saw in the bright sunlight and water, a rainbow. Taking photos is like a fever. I love the excitement of light and color. Maybe I see light differently. My art is my heart. My eyes are my camera. I see the image born to me. Especially children.

They are innocent. So carefree. They are the best subjects. You were even excited at the site of the water cannons with the sun and the filters on my camera. I know you’re a creative person. I know you too would feel that challenge and take the desire to shoot photos and wonder as I do how they will come out. This is the way I relax. Art. Whether it be to write, to paint, to express myself through a lens, I relax my mind. It is a meditation to me.

Nightfall came and the lights went on. We listened to a band from Holland. We had eaten at a cafe nearby and you had an omelet and I had Croque Madame. We read USA Today.

The Eiffel Tower. Gold luminous strength and height. Powerful. Beckoning you to touch it. Aman’s expression. His art. His design. A world to see it.

A night at the FIAPAD relaxing. Sauvignon wine and books. 0100 hours.

Sunday, August 30

Woke 0915. You stayed asleep. You had run out of underwear and shirts so I did a laundry for you. I met a man there, called Jose.He had fallen off his bike in the PBP and was seriously injured. I told him about you. He understood. ESP again – you met me on the elevator. We lunched at FIAPAD and then Metroed to the Luxembourg Gardens at 1230 (created in 1612 by Marie de’ Medici are famous for their beautiful fountains, tree-lined promenades, and sculptures) and arriving at 1315 hours. We walked around. I was out of film. We paid 120 francs for a pony ride.

A large pool was the center of the gardens. Brackish water with shadows of fish in it. A fountain in the center circulated the water. Several handmade sailboats moved gracefully on the surface. A small black boy with a long stick reached over the edge, gently nudging the boat.

We sat a while by the pool. You read your book: Silk Lady. I had to clean dirt in my camera. Again I saw the light, the shadows dancing in the water. Greens and browns moving with the surface. An orange Japanese Koi fish eating bugs. We left at 1515 hours.

We walked to the Pantheon (a building in Paris that was begun about 1757 by the architect Jacques-Germain Soufflot as the Church of Sainte-Geneviève to replace a much older church of that name on the same site. It was secularized during the French Revolution and dedicated to the memory of great Frenchmen, receiving the name Panthéon). A large domed building. I recalled studying it in architecture class in college. Corinthian columns. The crypts contained the grave of Victor Hugo (considered to be one of the greatest and best-known French writers. Outside France, his most famous works are the novels Les Misérables, 1862, and The Hunchback of Notre-Dame). I had done a term paper on him in high school. We saw Louis Braille’s grave (French Educator and Inventor. He is best remembered as the creator of a system of reading and writing for use by the blind or visually impaired, known simply as braille) and Jean-Jacques Rousseau (On 4 July 1778, Rousseau was buried at midnight, by torchlight, on a little island in the park which now bears his name. His remains were ceremonially relocated to the Panthéon national heroes repository in Paris in 1794 (June 28, 1712 – July 2, 1778) was a philosopher and composer of the Enlightenment whose political philosophy influenced the French Revolution, the development of both liberal and socialist theory, and the growth of nationalism). The dome’s view allowed us a southerly vantage point of France. Sacre Coeur and Eiffel Tower visible in the haze. St. Etienne Church. St. Genevieve. Life along the Seine in the year 450 must have been primitive. Horses, little shelter, poverty.

We walked the streets by the University of Paris and accidentally came across the Latin Quarter. Streets filled with people. Another turn and we were on Rue St. Michel. A clarinet and keyboards were playing jazzy tunes. We came across a postcard, poster store and went wild. I bought some posters and several postcards with bikes on them: 320,50 francs. A T-shirt store, and a T-shirt souvenir store.

2000 hours. We returned to FIAPAD for the evening dinner and packing. I worked up finances and caught up on my writing while you read your book. Gil and Jo were in the room also. Some guys were on the street below with a blaring ghetto blaster. You threw an apple at them and got them swearing! You then sang in the bathroom.

Monday, August 31

Woke at 0730. I stopped off at La Defense to buy film. You cycled your way to the Arc de Triomphe. While waiting for you, I caught up on my journal. I was so deep in thought I didn’t see you ride up. All of a sudden I heard you say, “Sue,” and I looked up to see two police pushing you. I explained to them all we wanted were photos but they said we’d have to leave. The sun was bright. I took several shots with the Arc in the background. One black and white shot you didn’t see was a bike chained to a fence, with a broken wheel.

While enroute to meet you at La Concorde, I was seated on the Metro and a black man, large, about 35 years old, smelly, wearing a jean jacket and jeans, sat across, diagonally from me. He had a shaved head and wore jewelry. He had brushed his leg up against mine. At a stop he pressed his leg against mine and I told him “Give me a break.” He moved it away. But at the next stop he again pressed his leg tightly against mine. I looked at him and said “Fuck you.” He looked surprised, moved his leg, and said, “Oh, you speak Anglais?” He left me alone.

At La Place de la Concorde, we met Warren Sass who had done PBP 3 times prior. He works at Woods Hole at the Oceanographic Institute. Warren was good to talk to as he aired his feelings toward Konski and the Randonneurs.

While enroute to the Eiffel Tower, I had some French guy tell me he wanted to make love to me. I can’t believe how bold these men are. Like the guy looking down my shirt last week and another one blowing on my arm in the Metro. Again, earlier today at La Defense, an Arab French nationale was behind me on the escalator  and said “tu est tres jolie” (you’re very pretty) and smiled showing the silver teeth he had. He reminded me of “Jaws” in James Bond 007. Gross.

I met you at the Eiffel Tower. You were resting. YOu looked great. It was bright outside. What a wonderful day. I hope all the pictures came out. There were few tourists and certainly not the crowd from other days. It was refreshing. I recalled then how some guys the other day were dancing on roller skates with a large tourist crowd around them. We watched a while and as we walked away I saw a black kid about 18 whistle over to a young gypsy girl about 7 years old. He was wearing a red fuzz jacket that said REBSOX on the back. The little girls had brown hair and soiled dress on. He motioned to her to work the crowd by moving his finger and hand in a circle and pointing to the people. The little girl disappeared into the crowd unnoticed to pick the pockets and purses of unsuspecting tourists. It was sad to think of the life this little girl will have. Where did she come from? I had heard that the gypsy children in Paris were sold by their families in Hungary to a family in Paris for the purpose of stealing.

I took some great shots of you. Other people noticed you too and were taking your picture. We had a lot of fun that morning

You beat me back to the FIAPAD and told me how someone drove you off the roadway. We snacked in the room on leftovers and headed out for a bike hop on the Grand Armee. We arrived at Boisis Bike Shop. you spotted the intricate bicycles in the window. Inside was a delightful, feisty little French woman. A big smile and a big heart. Madame Beauvy of Rue Brunel had passed on a long time ago. The shop was tiny and packed with bikes, equipment, and so much character. She maneuvered a ladder around, up and down, back and forth for us and other customers. It was fun. You brought a 480 franc triathlon outfit. I bought a “Maillot” shirt for me and you got one for your nephew; they said “Tour de France.”

Then we each bought two bikes (the ones in the window). Warren Sass showed up and he bought one too. He also took a photo of you, me and Madame Boisis in the store’s doorway. We got some French water bottles and she gave you two posters. We also signed the PBP sheet. Her mother was in the store and her sister came in for a moment. She told her sister how you had her sign a book (Touring Europe) and how we took a photo of her. She loved it. You gave her New York and NH T-shirts. She was so happy. I love to meet people like this. A passing moment in each other’s lives, never to meet again. You offered her your place to stay if she came to the states and I gave her my card. We left there feeling great! What a good time. We metroed onto Rue St. Michel and snooped around the several shoppes set up on the sidewalks.

One store we went into was selling T-shirts. You bought a T-shirt and two bike posters. I bought a dish for my Mom , a gargoyle, and a poster. Then you exchanged shirts from New York. Then you gave away a couple of shirts. This started a chain reaction of sorts. The girls gave us Eiffel Tower keyrings and two free bike postcards and gave you a shirt. Amidst all the confusion, the shirt you had originally entered the store for was not in the bag. I had 400 francs out to give to her as the bill was 290 francs. She handed you the shirt which cost 65 francs, took only 200 francs from me, and gave me 135 francs back. I didn’t realize it till we left the store. What a bargain. We walked along several tiny streets. I gave my police cards to two policewomen. We saw restaurants from Vietnam, Taiwan, Greece, China, Lebanon, Italy, etc., etc., etc. It was wild!

We ate at Pizza Pino and you had lasagna and I had a seafood pasta. Several people passed us carrying French bread. A small black dog ran up and down the street barking at nothing. The streets were filled with people. It was so exciting. What an atmosphere. We walked along St. Germain des Pres (Saint-Germain-des-Prés is one of the four administrative quarters of the 6th arrondissement of Paris, France, located around the church of the former Abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Prés) in search of Alain Mas. He wasn’t there. We were so disappointed. We  did buy a book from Jean-Francois Battelier and he autographed them for us (born 1947 in Paris, he is an independent “political” (in the broadest sense) cartoonist. He works in the dazibao style, frequently exhibiting his drawings on the streets. He has had many court cases concerned with the legality of exhibiting his work. Several volumes of drawings have been published. His themes are existential questions, repression, consumption, alienation, loneliness, and high-tech living, to mention but a few).

It was 2040 hours. We sat at a table alone outside a cafe at the Glacier Restaurant. We ordered two cokes (30 francs). Tiny green bottles in the old style of Coca-Cola. A man started playing the accordion. HE played French tunes that we never heard before, yet were so familiar. It was France. Looking to our right were the painters lined up on the sidewalk. Small lanterns hung on the fence.The block had the St. Germaine Church and usual French row houses across the street. One way traffic roared past us. People sitting at the cafe were laughing. The music filled the air. Paris. This was indeed the romantic French evening. I told you about “Be here now.” This was a passing moment in our lives. You said there was a reason for you coming to Paris, to France. There was more to life than the Council.

I felt that. What you said touched me deeply. You were right. You said there was a reason why we are there together, also. What was the reason? To open my eyes? I have always had insight into my soul. A part of me that you didn’t know. Meditation, reading books on philosophies. Hermann Hesse, Dante; Kahlil Gibran. I have never told you my deepest thoughts on the inner soul, experiences that I’ve had in search for truth and when it came to me. Yet sitting here beside you in Paris, when you said this, it reminded me of my past. Of learning the teachings of the prophets. We all move too swiftly in life. You said, “Mac said to take the time and smell the roses.” I do it quite often, though I never let on at times that I am thinking of it. At times you have caught me  “deep in toughout.” Sometimes you thought I was thinking of something or frowning. It was too deep at times to open my soul to you.

I’ll never forget this moment sitting beside you in Paris. This feeling will remain with me for my life.

I gave the accordion player two francs – he had given me so much…

We turned in at midnight.

Tuesday, September 1

0630 hours. I felt your hand reach across my chest. You said to get you some Maalox. I gave them to you and fell back asleep. Shortly afterwards you got up and weren’t coming out. I walked into the bathroom to find you shaking. You had the chills and were sweating. You were so sick. I knew it was food poisoning. You thought you were dying. I’ve experienced that same feeling  and those thoughts. I placed cold towels on you and tried to comfort you. Nothing can take away that pain.

Later, when I got up at 0800, I went to La Defense, arriving at 0930. That’s when it hit me. I, too, became ill, though not quite as bad as you. I nearly fainted a couple of times trying to make it to the bathroom. I did go into every store in search of a music box for your Mom. I bought some French bread and four bottles of wine. The Auchan Department store was large but had very few things of interest. I walked around the large mall. Several places didn’t open until 1000 or 1100 hours. It was a strange feeling. I was lightheaded, walking alone in a desolate place which was bustling with people the other day.Lights came on automatically. There was silence. I felt that I was in the Twilight Zone. What an eerie feeling. I thought of you being so sick. I wanted to go to you and comfort you but my body couldn’t walk any further. I had to rest.

Back at FIAPAD at noon. You looked better. You didn’t feel up to eating, so I ate alone. When I came back you decided you wanted to eat and asked me to go with you. We packed until 1630 and took the bike outside for pickup. We had supper at the Brasserie du Parc below the FIAPAD. You commented on the young executives seated outside. The luggage was finally picked up at 1930. We took the Metro to St. Germaine des Pres looking for Alain Mas. He wasn’t there. We walked to another Metro and to Montmartre. We had to walk up steep stairways. You did find a painting you liked and we were able to get it for 100 francs less than the asking price of 550 francs. It was fun.

We left Montmartre walking down the stairs with the city lit up in front of us below. Stars and a moon over the city shining. It was rather surrealistic. I captured the moment.

We ventured on and stopped at a police station and I took a photo of the two officers there. They were all smiles.

We arrived at the Eiffel Tower at 10;30 PM. The water in the pool was still. The tower was gold – its reflection glimmering in the deep colored water. The sky was hazy and the lights were faint around the edges. We tried buying two paintings for 100 francs each, but couldn’t talk the guy down. We walked to the edge of the pool by the cannon fountains. It was a still, quiet evening. I recalled how a few nights before we sat on the wall and kissed.each other. Again, I felt I wanted to hold you, hold this moment. I thought of “be here now.” The gold shimmering on the water. There wss no one else there as far as I was concerned. It was you and me. You started to walk away. I touched your arm. We hugged each other tightly. I started to cry.This was our last night in Paris. YOu had taken me here for a bike race.For support. I have no idea David if I helped you or not. So many thoughts filled my mind. Did I disappoint you? If I had been not so concerned with your health and if I insisted you change your mind, would you have gone on? But then I thought. It was your decision. I had no right to decide for you whether to go on or not.I think you decided right. You were so ill.

While holding me at the Eiffel Tower, I also thought of the strain. I didn’t come to Paris for me. I came for you. To be your friend. Support crew. Your interpreter. Most of all just to be your friend. Trust me. I trust you. I believe in you.

We walked away from the Eiffel Tower. I took one last look. The first night, I thought of the old song by Jeane Manson, the French singer on the cover of the LUI magazine. The song says – “make love to me like it was the first time.” A French song – so romantic. Yes, Paris was as romantic as they say. “Faire l’amour comme ceta la premiere fois, la derniere fois.” (Make love like this, your first time, last time)

We fell asleep at midnight. You woke me at 3 AM to ask what time it was.

Wednesday, September 2

Woke at 0500 hours. You told me of a dream you had after you had awoken me. You said I was in the kitchen on the floor sobbing. I had been raped.

Maybe I shouldn’t have told you what had happened so many years ago. I didn’t want that to bother you. It did so much that you dreamt about it. I, too, have had stranger dreams about you. I don’t know why. It scares me.

We took the Metro to Charles de Gaulle Airport. It was a foggy morning. The air was cool. As expected, there was no leadership at the airport. I’m certain if you knew French you would have taken charge. I did get used to doing that from experiences in my job. I have learned how to be authoritative. I’m glad you remind me of the times I can put that aspect aside and relax and be mellow. I told you the other night at the Cafe how it was so good for me to have you around – to make me unwind. You said it was good for you on the other hand to have me around as I jump up in the morning with motivation. It’s a “Question of balance.”

We flew out on time arriving in New york at France time of 1935 and USA time of 1335. The flight was excellent. Food, service, and the movie, “Children of a Lesser God.” It was all a good ending to a wonderful journey.

We passed through customs with no questions asked. When we reached the lobby, we were met by Mac (Rich McIlveen). What a warm feeling he gave me. Back in the USA! Friends. You are a good judge of character. I like Mac and Paula. We had Beaujolais and French bread for supper along with hamburgers. You got intoxicated. It was the first time I saw you loosen up. The stories were great. We laughed so much. That night you were so passionate.

Thursday, September 3

We left at 6:50 AM. Good-byes and promises of seeing them in the future.Paula made us some cookies for the trip. The drive home went well. We picked up Fritz (Sue’s police dog) at 11:45 AM. I don’t know if you’ll ever understand how much Fritz means to me. He never complains. He’s always happy to see me. He;s the only stable thing in my life. I’ll always know he’ll be there for me.You won’t be. You told me in Paris you wanted to date when you came back home. You have to choose your direction in life. I’ve told you before, I don’t make decisions for other people.

We arrived at my house at 13 hours.you mean a lot to me. You are my friend. I trust you. I respect you. We hugged good-bye. I felt so empty.

1830 hours I wrote this diary for David W. Elliot

 I never would have gone to Paris if it wasn’t for him. I never expected to go when he spoke of going to the PBP while in Syracuse, NY. He was unfortunately placed into a position he had no control over once he was there. It was so hard to keep up our spirits.

I wonder. Why this man? Why did we go to Paris? The most important reason was supporting him in the PBP. He thought at times that I had forgotten that. I never did. I tried so hard to keep his mind off the event afterwards. Why did God choose this path? Why did we take this journey? Yes, I believe there was a reason. A reason to see the other side of life. To appreciate home, family and all we have. To search within our souls for that truth that evades u. That few people ever touch as they don’t know it exists. God wants us to see the truth. To touch our souls. What is good in life. To have family. To teach our children in our lifetime what we have learned. Our values. We cannot live in a fantasy. We must face reality. Time is passing us by so quickly. Grasp on to all you can. Reach out to see each other for friendship, for trust, for love. I ask nothing of you David. My heart is with you. Thank you so much for taking me to Paris. I saw so much. The greatest thing I saw was the light. A rebirth of a truth I once knew.

I listen to the teachings my blood whispers to me.

I read in a book by Hesse that each man’s life represents a road toward himself. We strive towards our own destiny. “We can understand one another – but each of us is able to interpret himself to himself alone.”